Laugh
by AnnBlackwater
Summary: A short ficlet about Inquisitor/Cullen and the many laughs and smiles he learns from her.


**Laugh**

When Cullen had been informed that he was to meet the Inquisitor, he knew very little of her. Cullen had _heard_ plenty of course. The rumours about the human female had run amok hours prior to her arrival. She was a mage from the Ostwick Circle who had been present at the peace conference held at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The sole survivor of The Breach, many had claimed to witness her potent ability to stable the rift in the Fade. Some had gone as far as to say that she was blessed by Andraste Herself. At the rate the rumours were building up, Cullen couldn't help but imagine a severe and physically imposing woman armed with a pointed staff capable of magical and physical violence. In short, a woman who held herself with command and spoke with authority.

When the Inquisitor arrived, looking much shorter than he expected with a long curtain of dark hair that was hardly conducive to combat situations, Cullen shrugged off his previous imaginings, knowing full well they were fuelled by little more than idle gossip. As long as she was capable of helping the Inquisition, it didn't matter who or what she was, although if he were being honest, the fact that she was a mage twinged an old wound kept buried deep within him. As Cassandra introduced her, Cullen watched her carefully. Polite and sedate, she easily managed the tension between Leliana and Cassandra. Her questions were to the point, precise and articulate, leaving no room for confusion. When Cullen asked her for her thoughts about the title she had been given, she projected both caution and confidence.

"The title is simultaneously a source of hope and fear to different people. I think the truth behind the title will matter eventually. At this point, I can neither wear the title with pride nor reject it outright," she said, considering her words. He was impressed by her measured response and felt that regardless of the cloistered life she once led, the Inquisitor was a leader. She would be an invaluable addition to the group though he was beginning to feel vastly outnumbered by the females in the War Room. Overall, Cullen decided that the Inquisitor _did _live up to some of the rumours and expectations floating around after all.

He just hadn't expected her laughter.

It was subtle but ever present. When he answered her concerns about potential attacks, telling her that the Chantry had nothing but words at their disposal, he saw a flicker of humour light her face. The edges of her full lips quirked once and her brown eyes narrowed a little in suppressed humour. Even her cheeks remained lifted even after her mouth resumed its previously stoic position.

The next time, it was much more than a mere smile.

They were travelling to Skyhold, most of them on foot. Snow pelted, seeping uncomfortably into his armour and the wind bit at his face. He turned around, pausing to ensure no one had been left behind. Soldiers passed him with half-hearted salutes, too focused on the task of breathing in high altitudes. Puffs of white streamed from beneath helmets. He counted hunched over civilians and the families that were lagging with children carried in their arms. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he called out to Cassandra.

She came to him on one of the many mounts the Inquisitor had collected lately, spraying him with a small gale of snow that left him buried in white to his knee. "What is it?" she said curtly.

"Loathed as I am to stop, we need to make camp for the day. The people are exhausted, they are not soldiers," he replied.

"Do you think The Breach will wait and give us a reprieve whilst we rest?" she asked, her expression thunderous. "No, we must continue."

Cullen felt his jaw grit together. He wrenched them apart to retort when the Inquisitor intervened, "Then something needs to change." A Halla's elegant legs pulled up to him, beige antlers brushing just over Cullen's head. He saw a strip of red at the Halla's neck disappearing down to the underside of the animal.

Cassandra's expression darkened, pursing her mouth in disapproval, "The brontos already carry most of the weight. Surely –"

The Inquisitor interrupted, "Surely, if the members with mounts gave up their animals for the families and walked on foot for a while, we could make good progress and give the people in need of rest a reprieve."

She slid down into the snow, stumbling around as she tried to find purchase. The Halla bent its head, catching the Inquisitor within the cradle of its antlers. "I'm alright, I'm alright," she comforted the beast, rubbing her hands over the bridge of its nose. It lifted its head, righting the Inquisitor into a standing position once more, its gaze almost berating. Her laugh was soft yet suitably recalcitrant, a wayward child telling her parents that she was doing just fine on her own, thank you very much.

With a frustrated noise, Cassandra jumped off her own horse and Cullen watched as some of the Inquisitor's other companions followed suit, inviting the exhausted and weary on their mounts. Through the forceful winds came pleasant chatter, the tittering from the women and rough guffaws of the men, the morale of the people raised.

Cullen stayed by the Inquisitor as she stood beside him, whispering sweet words to her Halla, who continually huffed, taking offense that its mistress preferred to walk. When she found fatigued parents holding sleeping sons and daughters, she reached out for the children and placed them on her Halla, tying them securely in place.

It caused her and Cullen to walk at the back of the long line heading to Skyhold. At first, there was amiable silence as the Inquisitor seemed to consider how best to walk in snow. She lifted her heavy boots and stamped, an odd combination of trampling and falling, catching herself at the same time.

He couldn't help his wry comment, "You've never walked in snow before, have you?" It was a stupid comment. She was a mage, of course she hadn't.

"Of course I have..." she said, her eyes flickering away in embarrassment. Her expression answered the question better than her words did. Then she hurried to convince him, "I _have_ walked on snow. There was snow up at the Temple of Sacred Ashes!"

"Alright," he replied, not wanting to offend her anymore than he potentially could have. Then she added, her voice quiet, "It's just that there were more rocks to walk on." She stamped particularly hard and squawked, falling face first into the soft ice. Her arms flailed before she hit the ground, a puff of white flurries gracefully drifting back to the ground.

Cullen snickered before he schooled his expression, hauling her up from the snow. Her cheeks were chapped red where she had face-planted into the snow. Cullen idly considered that the word had never been more appropriately used. Offering his arm to her, her gloved hands sat contentedly in the crook of his elbow and she excused, "The snow is heavy. It's hard to walk when it's all over your feet."

He made a noise at the back of his throat, not trusting himself to resist laughter if he dared speak a word. A disgruntled face glared up at him, "You can't tell anyone!" When he promised he would not breathe a word of it to anyone, especially Varric, she grinned at him. Almost like a reward, she brought forth little flutters of flames to her fingertips, warming the two of them in the cold. He started at first, rebelling against the magic.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, "I should have told you first."

Guilt washed over him and then claws of shame ripped into his gut. He was too old to be so prejudiced by magic especially when he had seen how corruption could be found anywhere, in mages _and _Templars.

The Inquisitor concluded, "Some of the others said that you'd seen terrible things. I won't be so careless next time."

Instead, Cullen asked, "What have you been told?"

She didn't look at him, watching the ground as she walked, "Varric's stories mostly. He said you stood for the Champion when Knight-Commander Meredith went mad and..." she hesitated. Cullen found it strange how shy she seemed around him. She never spoke with such indecision with anyone else, or anywhere else.

"Did he tell you what happened in Ferelden?" he asked, his voice sounding wooden even to his own ears.

"Only the rumours," she muttered as her fingers bit into his arm, steadying herself as she stumbled yet again.

So he told her the story, every tiny detail he could remember that still affected his fears and plagued his dreams. It took days to regale his experiences and as they travelled on foot, she listened without complaint and judgment. By the time he told her about how the Champion left Kirkwall after the battle against Meredith, he felt hollow. Drained of all emotion, he wondered if the Inquisitor could ever trust him knowing his past.

Almost at Skyhold, the castle looming ever closer, she stopped and turned to him. She was smiling again. It was reticent but almost wishful. Cullen wondered if it was just the dawn blooming over the planes of her face. There were a few beats of silence and then she said, "You think yourself a monster."

He flinched, "I know what manner of beast I am."

"Fear creates darkness in us," the Inquisitor said, "but I'm glad you do not allow it to rule you. That is why you are a man, and not a monster. That fear you hold might never be dissuaded but it can be tempered."

"By what? Death?" he asked, feeling cynical.

"By warmth, trust, affection, _friends_," she replied in an understanding tone. It was a generous response, he thought, and she asked, "Do you have any friends?"

He wondered what manner of _man_ he could be with her, entertained the thoughts of affection between them far more than platonic emotions and answered, "Apparently, I do, Inquisitor."

"It's Riler, Cullen. You don't call your friends by their titles," she teased before she ran a few steps ahead of him. His elbow, warm from the constant presence of her hand suddenly cooled. He didn't like it, he thought, and chased up to her. "Be careful," he told her.

"I can do it! I've been doing it for days!" she said. Feeling playful, he nudged her and she flapped her arms in a pathetic imitation of a bird, trying to fight the fall, before he caught her again. "What was that you said?" he asked sardonically.

Riler took a generous handful of snow and threw it at him. He dodged the haphazard throw and decided not to retaliate. Next time, he promised, as he took her hand and wound it over his arm. She beamed at him, finding joy despite the tired state she was in. It wasn't the dawn's light that brightened her face, Cullen thought to himself, it was her propensity to feel hope. Something correspondingly blossomed in his chest, his long dead or cold numbed heart twitching inside of him. Somehow, the next time she surprised him with her fire magic, he didn't start at all. When he smiled at her, she returned it.

A few days after reaching Skyhold, he heard Riler's full blown laughter.

He strode into the War Room with an armful of reports to find her muttering with Josephine. She'd bent over the red candle that was attached to Josephine's clipboard, mouthing the words she was reading when she abruptly stiffened, lips dropping open as though in surprise before she threw her head backwards and laughed. Well used to her joy, Cullen still felt surprise at how comfortable she could be with her guard down. Like a child, she giggled to the point of uncontrolled helplessness. She staggered on her feet and held onto Josephine's elbow to catch her breath and the sight was so ridiculous, so obviously out-of-place in an order of people meant to save Thedas that Cullen chuckled under his breath.

By the time Cassandra arrived, Riler was in control of herself once more but every time her eyes met Josephine's across the table, her smile _erupted_ and her dimples winked at her cheeks. It certainly kept his mood bright. He realized he was almost cheerfully arguing with Leliana about using the Templars instead of the rebel mages.

After that, he made every excuse he could to see her smile or hear her laugh at least once every day. He joined the group for as many meals as he could afford given his time constraints just to feed his new compulsive addiction. She had over a dozen different types of smiles and with time, he learned them all.

Riler smirked when she was with Dorian. Her eyes would narrow down with playful arrogance when he sassed her and her smile would tilt up to the left side of her face, as crooked as Dorian's mind was sure to be.

She grinned around Iron Bull. Her eyes would dance with amusement at his antics, her teeth flashing between parted lips. Iron Bull stepped on her foot one day and even then, her smile barely faltered though she punched him lightly on his exposed stomach. Naturally, he barely felt it.

With Blackwall, her mirth was usually mixed with a groan of annoyance. Deep down, Cullen was certain she found Blackwall's lewd jokes funny but her maidenly charms got the better of her and she would complain or perhaps exclaim his name in a scandalous tone.

It was with Solas that she was sedate. Her mouth was relaxed and the content smile would emerge, perfectly symmetrical and at peace. Out of habit, she would tuck a piece of hair behind her ears and rest her chin in her hand as Solas regaled his experiences of the Fade. Even awake, she would dream and imagine what he'd seen, faraway and wistful.

Riler seemed to be constantly seized by embarrassed giggles around Varric. Cheeks flaming, she would hide her face behind her hands, eyes peeking between the gaps of her fingers. Varric might read risqué poetry and her shoulders would shake though she stifled any sound of laughter she made.

Gentle with Cole, Cullen had seen Riler's patience. Despite Cole's odd ways and occasional misbehaviour, she soothed him with a serene simper that could temper a rabid wolf. Her words would be soft spoken and sometimes, Cullen wondered why Riler would be so kind to someone who could potentially be a demon. Perhaps Riler saw Cole's inner need for peace and belonging.

Cullen's thoughts on Cassandra's relationship with Riler were something akin to sibling rivalry with a generous dose of affection. During dinner one night, Cassandra had passed the salt cellar to Riler. Her response was, "Thanks, Cassie!"

The entire table went quiet. Cassandra's glare was as violent as first lightning. "Call me that again and I'll skewer you," she had said.

Riler's mouth twisted into a pout, "But Cass..."

With an exasperated huff, the Seeker of the Chantry said with a roll of her eyes, "Cass will do." Riler's eyes lit up with glee and she batted her eyelashes at 'Cass' when she poured gravy generously onto Riler's plate.

Cullen didn't know what Riler was like around Sera until he joined both women on a mission. Sera had made an inflammatory remark, one so vulgar that Cullen could not think of the words without feel embarrassed, and Riler had laughed. It was a bark, short and boisterous, that stopped abruptly when foolish thieves came to attack them.

It was with Vivienne that Riler seemed the most reverent. Respectful, Riler's smile never reached her eyes when she spoke with Madame der Fer. It was almost wary. It was surprising to Cullen. He would have thought spending time with Leliana in her rookery would make any person uncomfortable. That was not the case.

Cullen had spied Riler and Leliana together many a time, and through neither spoke, both were obviously friends and comfortable in the silence. Both of them cooed at the ravens, feeding them from the palms of their hands. To him, it seemed like a hobby and both took opportunities to feed the birds whenever they were free.

Josephine seemed to encourage Riler's girlishness. They would titter away the way summer birds did, gossiping in hushed tones before Riler would erupt in giggles, as though they were talking about topics as contraband as the lyrium he'd recently seized from the Red Templars. With the way Riler seemed to constantly blush, Cullen wondered if Josephine wasn't teasing her constantly.

There was no one that Riler did not smile to. There was no one that she did not share her laughter with. Deeply satisfied, Cullen knew that he was the only one to learn all her smiles and hear all the different sounds of her laughter.

Until one day, she had no smiles or laughter for herself.

Riler had returned with Leliana from Redcliffe Castle with Dorian and Blackwall. Cullen heard the blares of fanfare from his tower. He looked up from the papers and felt relief flooding through him. She had been gone two whole weeks. It was not so long a period of time but he knew she would be facing Venatori; he wanted to be there to protect her.

He greeted her at the gates of Skyhold along with Josephine and felt the smile on his face wane. She wasn't injured, she still sat proud on her Halla but the warmth she habitually exuded when she was finally home was not present. Dorian and Blackwall continually exchanged looks of worry as they took turns trying to start some manner of conversation with her. She would nod, give brief responses but otherwise, she seemed defeated.

As Riler slid off her Halla and a boy led the creature away, Cullen strode to her. Knowing better than to appear overly attached, he asked, "Inquisitor, was the mission a success?"

She seemed to wilt in front of him, brown eyes barely seeing, shoulders slumping forward. She nodded, "It was a success, Commander." But something had obviously gone wrong. He watched her walk towards Josephine. Her hand reached for Josephine's, squeezed and then she walked away. Usually, she attacked Josephine with affection, hugging her with the might of a bear.

Cullen raised an eyebrow at Dorian, who answered without his usual lack of deference, "We killed Felix, the son of my old mentor. It wasn't the wrong choice but she was quiet after that."

Just before dinner, Cullen scribbled out the last of his reports. His scrawled handwriting littered the pages, rushed in an effort to make time so he could work out what was wrong with Riler. He jogged down to the tavern late, only to find their usual table quiet.

Everyone was present save Riler but all of them were also absent. There was barely any conversation and the customary camaraderie between group members he'd been so used to had seemingly evaporated.

"Where is she?" he asked. No one answered. Some shrugged. Cole's white-grey eyes met his and he muttered, "I believe she's within the Chantry garden. She's hurting..." Cullen didn't bother listening to the rest of Cole's words, making short work of the cobbled paths between the tavern and the temple.

As Cole predicted, Riler was there beneath the moonlight. In her usual casual leathers, she sat in front of the candles that lit up the makeshift monument that was being built. Flowers and tokens had been hung by the various residents of Skyhold, left there to remember those who had fallen in this Maker forsaken war. Her fingers twisted into a golden chain, thumbing an amulet that was engraved with a shape he couldn't see. He felt the hum of magic, the thrum of malignance that set his teeth on edge.

He meant to warn her, his shadow was already covering hers when tears, made silvery by the moon, marred the amulet's glowing surface. His chest tightened painfully. The magic in the amulet paled in significance to the sight of seeing a woman like Riler, normally so full of laughter, reduced to tears. Cullen might have preferred it if someone had stabbed him outright.

"I'm fine, Cullen," she said, her voice cracking to his ears. He felt his heart turn over and moved to sit down beside her on the grass.

"I thought we were friends," he said gently, pretending not to see as she jerked the back of her hands over her eyes.

"We are friends," she murmured.

"Then don't lie to me, Riler. Tell me what's wrong," he pleaded, removing his gauntlets and throwing them aside.

"That's just it. Nothing's wrong," Riler said before she hung the amulet on the branches of a small tree in the garden. Cullen watched it sway before taking her hands, which were on their way to wiping more tears away. She turned to face him, a trail of dampness over her pale cheeks. He reached up to brush them off, before lingering over the line of her jaw. Cullen had never seen her so empty, it was as though her eyes held the Void itself.

He pushed, "So this isn't about Felix?"

Like a cut flower that'd been away from its branches too long, she withered. Her eyes pricked with tears and she hastily looked away, voice hitching, "He was Alexius's son and we – Leliana killed him. She did it to buy us more time and I stand by her decision. I made sure she knew that but..."

She turned back to face him, her pupils dilated leaving only a small rim of brown, "I know when we kill someone, that man or woman may be family to someone else but it had never been so obvious before. We used his son as bait and then killed him. At most, Felix might have been his father's puppet and there was obvious affection between the two. I just –"

Cullen hushed her, swallowing the hard lump in his throat. When her head fell forward awkwardly onto his shoulder, his bare fingers stroked through her silken hair and rubbed her back. "I understand your pain, Riler. This is the burden that has fallen upon you," he said, knowing his words weren't really helping the situation. He wanted to give her more. He needed to give her happiness just as she had always given him hope.

Eventually, her arms went around his neck and she sobbed in earnest. He knew her grief was not merely over Felix. His death had been a trigger, an opening of a dam filled by the terrible things she'd seen as Inquisitor. Though he hadn't spent much time with her on missions, he'd read every report. The towns that had been razed by dragons to the children who had turned to blood magic in desperation, Riler was mourning everyone she couldn't save.

When eventually her body stopped quivering, she pulled away, biting out an awkward apology. He shook his head, pulling her to her feet. She followed as he led her to his private rooms, sat when he asked her to, drank when he gave her a small snifter of whiskey but when food arrived for them, she began to recover. Colour returned to her face and eventually, she managed some conversation.

"Thank you," she said later on, watching soft snow flakes drift from the window. "It's not part of your job to let me cry all over you."

Cullen agreed, "You're right, it isn't but I'm not acting as a commander right now." He passed her another drink and she took the glass with a smile.

"I'm fine now, or I will be by tomorrow," she assured him.

He stood beside her, "It seems to go without saying that you'll be fine. Not only are you strong of character, you are the laughter of our group. You find hope in all places and spread joy easily."

Riler smile grew with each moment that passed, "It isn't so difficult. I've been blessed."

Cullen's response was wry, "You consider being burdened with your task a blessing?"

She met his eyes, brown on hazel, "Perhaps not, but I _have_ been blessed in life. No matter how terrible the world seems, there are people in my life I would willingly die for and causes to fight for." Her expression glowed with pride, "When I remember that, I know there is hope."

"I would prefer that you did not die," Cullen reminded her.

She laughed a little, "I would prefer that too but morbid as it sounds, I'm grateful that I can say that I would lay my life down for you and for our friends. It means you're worth fighting for so there must surely be beauty in this world."

His heart jolted, squeezed down on itself and he admitted, "I wanted to be there with you. It scares me to think that you risk yourself and I am not there to protect you. I hate to steal lines from Varric but I am the Herald's sword and shield, and rightfully so."

Riler stifled her mirth though her lips curved into a generous bow. "You've done for me as much as you are able, I think," she said.

Her words did not dissuade the image of her body, lying bleeding and broken in Redcliffe Castle. Nor did it wash away the memory of her heartbreak. He murmured, his voice rough, "As much as I'd like to, I won't always be there to fight at your back. But when you return to Skyhold, feeling lost or beaten down, I would like to be the smile that reaches your lips or the hope that glows in your heart."

Riler's mouth fell apart, "I – Cullen...that's very rom -" She broke off and tried again, a questioning smile growing, "Are you – Did you just – Do you mean to say that -"

Unable to quell the smugness at her reaction, Cullen drawled, "If I invite you to breakfast tomorrow, will that answer the fractured question you're trying to ask?"

Riler blushed and looked away, "That does answer the question but since we've had dinner in your quarters, I suggest breakfast in mine."

He sidled up behind her, agreeing easily, "That sounds fair." As he stepped closer to her so her back just touched his chest, she relaxed into him, head resting upon his shoulder like she belonged there. He exhaled in relief that she was so accepting of his affections.

She must have heard for she laughed and Cullen realized with indulgent possession that she had a laugh for him too, one that was for his ears only.

It was a husky little purr, a trill that was darkened with promise yet brightened with delight.

* * *

><p>AN: Just a little something that came up. I'm still working on my original so there's been a hiatus. Let me know what you think!

Love, Ann


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